Page 3 of Shadows of the Crown

When I’m satisfied with my ability to manipulate objects, I snatch one of my blades and cut deeply down the length of my wrist. This would be a fatal cut to most, though it forces me to really focus on my vital strand. While it’s good to practice with essence, I find it helpful to learn how to use it in differentsituations. Teaching myself to not panic from bad wounds is important, especially for when I make it into the castle. Chances are, the royal guards will strike me before I see the king, and I cannot let those wounds slow me down. I will need to heal them as I move and not allow their severity to cloud my thoughts.

I pull on the strand, this one located deep in my chest, and coax it to my left arm. A dim light passes through my fair skin, traveling swiftly to the injury I created, and I watch in awe as I instruct it to seal the wound shut. A small amount of the light peeks through as it works the top layer of my skin, and I smile. Some of my strands almost feel sentient, as if they're another entity living in my body—I chuckle. They likely spend their time cursing me for how foolish I am with my safety.

I practice a few more strands in the elemental and ethereal affinities before I feel sated enough to sleep. There are some strands—like the fauna from the living affinity and psionic from the ethereal—that I cannot practice alone. Those must be subtly used around other beings, and I do not necessarily enjoy invading the minds of others…it's strange existing in two bodies at the same time.

Sighing, I stand to strip my leathers and slide on a shirt, ready to lose myself to the darkness for a while.

Green, unfeeling eyes stare back at me as I ready myself for the day. I throw on a tank and shorts, needing to run after I meet with my mentor. I grimace at the bright sun shining through the window—it's likely already too fucking hot outside, and my lack of attire will be less than helpful. I pull a band over my thigh and sheathe my blade, because Angel damn me if I'd go anywhere without one.

That's the caveat of having the reputation I do…there is always a target on my back.

I step from one of the two private bathrooms available on this floor and walk down the stairs to Marek’s study. I knock twice on the dark wooden door and wait for permission to enter. Marek is hunched over a stack of papers that I’m pleased are not my responsibility. The room is dimly lit, as always—he prefers to only have two lamps, instead of an overhead light, as the brightness bothers him just as much as it does me. The sleek floor doesn’t creak as I step to his desk, remaining silent until he’s ready to address me. We may have an easy, casual relationship, but he’s still my mentor and I always show him the respect he deserves.

There have been times I’ve regarded him as my second father, though those flitting thoughts never last long, as I quickly begin feeling guilty for pushing my own father to the side. He certainly wouldn’t think of it that way, and I know he would prefer me to have a nice relationship withsomeonein my life, but I cannot just change the way I feel.

I sit in the large armchair across from him, folding my hands across my lap. Marek’s getting older, and it’s obvious in his features. Patches of gray streak through his hair, lines crease next to his eyes when he smiles, and he sometimes has that look about him that says he wants to leave Eldoria and find a peaceful, quiet home in a neighboring city. Those looks are more frequent lately, to my dismay.

He breathes a lightly groaning sigh, sliding his glasses off his face and setting them onto the table. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, pinning me with a glare. I learned the differences between his stares very quickly after I arrived at the guild, never knowing how useful that skill would be with other people. This one says,“really, Ariella?”and I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.

“She was being a bitch, Marek. You know how she gets,” I exclaim, feeling like a child being scolded even though I’m twenty-seven. The man is lucky he's the only person in the realm I'd allow to speak to me in such a way.

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side slightly, which means“and you think it was acceptable to threaten her just because she was rude?”

“Yes, I do—in fact, you yourself taught me to threaten anyone that has shit to say about me. It’s not like I was actually going to do anything…” I sink back in my chair, shifting my eyes to the painting behind my disappointed mentor. And because I refuse to ever keep my mouth shut, I mutter under my breath, “She didn’t need to know that, though.”

“Ari, you insulted her and now she's making it my problem,” he groans. My gaze snaps back to his, and I can see the laugh he’s trying to hold in.

“Kick her out if you do not wish to deal with her dramatics.” His jaw clenches, and whether he's considering strangling me or not, I cannot be sure. “At least I’m honest. Would you have me lie to her instead?” I press, knowing I’ve swayed him to my side.

Of course I did. He can never say no to his favorite student.

I smirk at his narrowed eyes, making it clear he’s lost. Again. Marek has always been fond of me, which is likely why I’m the only student he’s ever mentored himself. Every other student is under the direction of Velora. I’m not sure why he chose me when I was brought to the guild twenty-years ago, though it’s not difficult to guess that he saw what happened to my father.

Everyone saw.

“You will be the death of me, girl,” he mutters the same eight words he’s said to me since day one. Grabbing his glasses and sliding them back on, I know he’s done with his obligatory scolding and ready to move on to other topics.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on his large desk as I set my chin on combined fists. “You should be thankful I'm here to entertain you in your old age; otherwise your grumpy ass would meet the Angel without ever having laughed a day in your life.” He chuckles, shaking his head and pulling out a folder with the name Samuel written at the top.

We have a tradition of discussing my assignments once they’re completed; he likes to be informed of what happened, but it’s much more than that. As my mentor, he has always asked me to describe what I did during the job. What essence I used, what fighting or weapons—if any—and where my thoughts were during. Why did I make the decisions I did? Once I explain the details, we work through anything I could have done differently.

I may be the best killer in the realm—according to Marek—but there is always room for improvement. I used to be so annoyed whenever he would say that to me, but now I appreciate the expression. He’s right, I can always be better; and I work very hard to surpass my own frustrating limits and high expectations.

He scans the basic notes in the file, re-familiarizing himself with the specifics of why we were hired for this job. Once he’s finished, his tired eyes find mine expectantly, waiting for me to start. Iexplain how I waited in the alley, sneaking up behind Samuel when he entered. He listens as I describe how I killed him, and what I was thinking during those hours. It was a relatively easy assignment, as the target put up no fight and died quickly, so I’m done speaking within a couple of minutes.

I leave out the information about my use of ethereal essence, of course. Though I think he’s known for a while that there are things I haven’t told him about my essence. He’ll never ask, as he wouldn’t put me in a position to choose between our relationship and my safety, but he sometimes looks at me as if he sees more than I’ve ever let anyone see—which I ignore. My parents were the only people who knew of my universal essence, and unfortunately, the one sharp memory I have of my father is him desperately begging me to never tell another soul. I trust Marek completely, and think of him and Isaiah as the only family I have, but I’d demand he slit my throat before I confessed my darkest secret.

I wait in silence while he watches me with calculating eyes. He’s surely trying to determine how I managed to sneak up behind the target in a narrow alley when he was walking toward me. We stare at each other for a moment, and I raise a brow in challenge. But he nods, resigning to the fact that this is one of those questions he will not ask and I will not answer.

“Well, do you believe there was anything you could have done differently?”

Yes.I need to control my anger better, as it once again put me at risk of getting caught by outsiders.

“No, I don’t believe so,” I say instead, feeling fidgety, my muscles begging me to move.

“Pride is improvement’s rival, Ariella.” He pins me with a knowing look, and I keep my face neutral and voice silent. “You’re dismissed. I would have you work with Julia and Noah when you get back.” Standing, he pockets his hands, looking overly stressed. “They’re falling behind, and between you and me, you’ll catch them up faster than any of the others.”

I nod and turn from the office, walking into the common area. There are a few students huddled around a table, eating breakfast before class this morning. I used to be jealous of those who could make friends easily; especially in a place where we’re taught everyone is our enemy. But now I’ve learned the benefit in solitude, as I am the only person I’ve ever been able to truly rely on. Sure, I have Marek and Isaiah, but that will never be the same thing.

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